A Moment of Inattention
by Bianca Pearl
Summary: Fanfiction about Geoff and Pavel from the Irish TV series, Raw. Pavel has an unpleasant confrontation which brings out Geoff's protective instincts and forces him to take a hard look at what he wants for their future together. M/M


Disclaimer: I don't own Raw or any of the characters from Raw. This is intended as homage only, I make no money from it.

PS: This story is about gay characters. If that's not your thing, may I respectfully suggest you don't read on.

**A Moment's Inattention**

Pavel turned his bike down a narrow cut-through lane, rushing to get to work. Head down, he increased speed, pulled his hood up against the sharp autumn breeze. Houses and parked cars whizzed by.  
_Nearly late again. Lucky for me I'm sleeping with the head chef.  
_He snorted to himself and shook his head.  
_What are you thinking, Pavel? You know that won't make any difference.  
_He'd long ago grown used to Geoff's work persona, stopped feeling hurt that Geoff rarely acknowledged during prep and service thatthere was anything more between them than an often gratifyingly synergetic but at other times fraught and contentious chef/waiter relationship. It was just Geoff's way. A workaholic and a consummate professional who kept work and home strictly separate. Aside of course from those rare occasions when he completely lost the plot in spectacular fashion. Thankfully that hadn't happened in quite a while.  
Under the wheels of his bike, mashed-up fallen leaves, mottled yellow and brown.  
It reminded him of the passage of time.  
_Almost two and a half years.  
_Two and a half years since he's last spoken to his family. Their last words had been harsh. Since then, the communication had been pretty much all one way. Letters to his parents, keeping them informed of his whereabouts, his contact details. No reply. He'd emailed his siblings, a lot to begin with, less so as time passed. Only his little sister Marketa had bothered to reply, her mails back to him kind but short and somewhat terse.  
_Little? What am I thinking? She must be 18 by now. I'm in a time-warp. None of them have changed for me.  
_But things had changed. It was Marketa who informed him that he was now an uncle. His sister Sonya had given birth a few months ago. He'd surprised himself by how upset the news made him, to think that he hadn't even known she was pregnant. Geoff had caught him wrapping up a little present for the baby a few days later. When Pavel explained he didn't say anything but just gave him a hug. At times like that he was so relieved to have a staunch Aussie boyfriend. Sometimes fewer words were way better than more.

Distracted, he shot out of the lane without looking. The shock of impact, a loud crunching sound and he flew over the handlebars, landing on his backpack with enough force to wind him. His wrist felt wrong, a tingly numbness that rapidly turned into pain.  
His bike was lying on the ground beside him, it looked okay.  
The other guy hadn't been so lucky. He stood contemplating his twisted front wheel with a look of wounded disbelief.  
Pavel felt like an upended turtle. He rolled awkwardly to his side and got up onto his feet, cradling his arm.  
"Why the hell didn't you look where you were going?"  
"I'm so sorry. Really. I didn't see you."  
The man's face was red; he ran his hand through the stubble on his head. "You never looked. You could've fucking killed me. Don't they have road rules in Poland?"  
"I was in the wrong. I'm sorry." Pavel's voice was shaking. "I can pay you for the damage." He pulled off his pack awkwardly, one-handed, and dug around for his wallet. He'd just drawn out some money; should cover it.  
"I don't want your stinking money Got it from begging, did ya?" The other cyclist was right in his face now. "Gypsy scum. Leeching off hard-working people? That'd be right."  
The guy's fist came out of nowhere. It connected with his chin and he was down again, this time his head did hit the ground and everything started going black around the edges. A burst of shocking pain in his side; he dimly realised he'd been kicked.

Other voices were shouting now. "Get off me!" his attacker was yelling as hands pulled him away. Pavel noted with a detached kind of interest that for someone who didn't want his stinking money the guy had been fast enough to pick up his fallen wallet and stuff it into his back pocket. He grabbed his bike and made off.  
Pavel passed out.

"Give us a few of those." Jojo's hand snaked across and grabbed a bunch of Geoff's carrot julienne.  
"Hey –" He looked over at her starters. "What the hell are you doing?"  
His sous glanced up guiltily then back down at her work. Sage–leaf flowers decorated the top of every little pot of pate, each with a peppercorn centre and a pilfered carrot stem. Beside her stood a jug of golden-brown aspic, ready to coat each serving.  
"It looks completely naff."  
"It's retro, Geoff. Uh, Chef. Retro cool. I've made melba toast too."  
His expression was unimpressed, but resigned.  
"If you say so, Elizabeth David." He'd leant to trust Jojo's instincts – most of the time. She was right more often than not, though it hurt his ego to admit it - even to himself.  
_Why fight it? The girl is good.  
_

Fiona bustled in.  
"Where's your poodle skirt?"  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Well, it seems we've taken a trip back to the fifties."  
"I don't have to start marking the gin levels again do I Geoff?"  
"Hah."  
"Just checked the bookings. It's going to be a busy one." She glanced around the kitchen. 'Where's Pavel?"  
"Around."  
"I don't think so. He's not in yet. The waiters are asking me all sorts of questions and I don't have time for it."  
"Huh?" Geoff checked his watch. "Shit, what's he up to?"  
In his office, he rang Pavel's phone. Message, as usual.  
"Pavel, quit shagging around and get your arse into work. Pronto."

Lunchtime service began, several phone calls later and still no Pavel. Geoff quietly fumed, but worry was starting to niggle at him too.  
"Geoff, come into my office a minute would you."  
It was Fiona, face grim.  
"Right – uh, Jojo, take care of this will you."  
He followed her in, wiping his hands on his apron. She didn't beat around the bush.  
"The hospital rang. Pavel's been knocked off his bike."  
"What?" The world seemed to tilt under him. "Is he-?"  
"He's being held under observation. That's all they'd say."  
"I'm going."  
Fiona nodded wordlessly and he walked out without a second glance.

The taxi ride to the hospital was surreal. Geoff watched raindrops run down the windowpane, a cold knot in his chest, the feeling that something was being taken away from him strong and terrifying. This situation he couldn't control.  
They arrived. He tossed a random handful of notes at the driver and ran through the automatic doors.

"Are you a family member?"  
The woman at the front desk looked up at him shrewdly but not unkindly.  
Geoff had pulled off his bandana and stuffed it in his pocket but other than that he looked exactly as if he was still in the kitchen. Hot, sweaty, food splatters all over his front.  
"Yeah." Geoff tried to think straight. "I'm his cousin. His cousin. By marriage."  
"I see."  
"Is he all right?"  
"Just a moment, sir." She consulted her computer screen for what seemed an age.  
"Mr Rebien is stable."  
"And what does that actually mean?"  
"You'll need to talk to the doctor, Mr Mitchell."  
"Can I see him?"  
He was directed to a ward.  
He banged on the lift button but it took several centuries to reach ground level so he ended up running up three flights of stairs and along several corridors. But when he got to the ward he stopped dead and stood at the doorway, panting, uncertainly peering into the haze of filtered sunlight that filled the room. There were curtains drawn around most of the beds.  
He couldn't make Pavel out at all.

"Can I help you?"  
"I'm looking for Pavel. Pavel Rebien."  
"Yes, Mr Rebien's here."  
"Is he all right? What's happened to him? I need to see him."  
"And you are…?"  
"Geoff."  
"Geoff. It's okay. He'll be fine, really. He's sleeping now."  
"Sleeping?" The word caught in his throat, the relief was so intense. He sagged against the doorframe, tried to speak, choked, couldn't.  
Geoff pressed his face against the wall, bit down on his lip. A sob boiled up out of him anyway, came out half strangled. _Stop it._ He couldn't let her see him cry.  
He felt a tentative hand on his arm.  
"Are you all right?" The nurse was an Aussie too, somehow that made him feel better.  
He took a deep breath, stood up straight again.  
"Yeah, thanks. I'm good. How's Pavel?"  
She consulted a chart clipped to the doorframe.  
"Fractured wrist from the fall off the bike. The doctor wanted to keep him under observation overnight to be sure there was no concussion from the blow to the head when he fell. And of course some abdominal bruising from when he was kicked. Luckily no ribs broken."  
"Kicked? He was _kicked_? What the hell are you talking about?"  
"Oh, I'm sorry, you haven't spoken to the gardai yet? He was attacked, after the accident. By the person he hit."  
A red mist started to gather in the corners of Geoff's vision.  
He must have looked pretty bad because he felt the hand on his arm again.  
"Geoff, I can't let you onto the ward unless you're calm."  
Geoff pulled himself together, forced the rage to subside.  
"I'm calm."  
"Good."

Pavel slumped on the settee, not really watching a reality show, his wrist a steady painful throb, like a heartbeat.  
Geoff flopped down next to him, black marker pen in hand.  
"What's that for?"  
"Someone's got to christen it. Here."  
He took Pavel's arm gently and held it up so he could reach the back of the cast, and wrote something there.  
"What's going on? Geoff – that had better not be rude."  
"Oh ye of little faith. Look."  
Pavel peered at it with trepidation.  
It was a love heart, perfectly symmetrical.  
"I'm actually quite touched."  
"Thought you would be. Hang on, I'm not finished." Geoff grabbed the cast again and wrote something else across the front. In big, unmissable black letters:  
**DON'T BELIEVE HIM, IT'S A FAKE!  
**"Geoff! I have to wear this to work! "  
"Exactly. Can't have you using it as a bid for sympathy from all the diners now can we? I can see those sad brown eyes now. Tip me more, mister. I'm Eastern European, English is my second language and I'm injured."  
"I wouldn't do that and you know it but so what if I did? More tips equals more money for us."  
"For you."  
"Well, if you paid the waiting staff better we would not be forced to beg for a gratuity now would we."  
"Okay, let's change the subject."  
"Alright then."  
There was a pause. Geoff's eyes had turned very dark. He leaned over and kissed Pavel, hard.  
"Ow!"  
Geoff jerked back as if scalded.  
"Shit! I'm sorry, Pavel."  
"I have got a broken arm you know."  
"Fractured wrist."  
Pavel smiled and they were silent for a few awkward moments. As if by mutual consent, heir eyes slid back to the television screen.  
_Great work, Pavel. Totally ruined the moment._ He glanced at Geoff, seemingly absorbed in watching some woman have hysterics about her décor, absently chewing on his thumbnail. The ads came on. Loud.  
Pavel sighed.  
The ads finished.  
"So we really can't…?" Geoff had turned back to him. His eyes, blue in theory but in practice the colour changeable as the sea, depending on his mood and surroundings. Still close to black now, intense with desire.  
Pavel reached for the remote with his good hand, shut the telly off.  
"I didn't say can't. Just maybe…like this."  
"Hmmm?"  
"Yup. That'll do it."

Later on, in bed. Pavel lay on his back, his bad arm flung out at a strange angle that he claimed was more comfortable. Geoff was curled against his shoulder.  
"Pavel?"  
"Mmm…mm?"  
"Don't go to sleep, I want to ask you something."  
"Uh-huh." His lips were parted, eyes drooping almost shut.  
Geoff took a deep breath.  
"I want to take you away from here."  
Pavel's eyes opened again, he turned his head and looked at Geoff quizzically.  
"Away from where?"  
"Here. I want to take you home."  
"Geoff. We are at home. Remember?" He reached over with the cast and knocked Geoff lightly on the forehead. "It was me that got the concussion, not you. You're supposed to talk sense."  
"I meant home home. As in Australia. To live."  
"Australia?" Pavel sat up. "What are you talking about? We can't go to Australia."  
"You just about went to Brazil with that other bloke and you barely knew him."  
"That's not the point! We discussed this before. It's not possible."  
Pavel glanced down and took note of Geoff's expression. He slid back down and took Geoff's hand, squeezed it.  
"Look. You know I could never get the points. I'm a waiter, Geoff. Not a brain surgeon. We looked into it last year. You know that as well as I do."  
"I want to keep you safe. Look after you."  
"So, Australia's got no violent nutjobs of its own, then?"  
"Fair point. But it's still home, Pavel. After everything that's happened here, I just…anyhow, Ireland's going down the gurgler. I don't see much of a future here. Do you? Especially for two little immigrant boys like us."  
"That's complete rubbish, we're fine. Raw's doing so well. It means the world to you, Geoff. Why would you give all that away? And anyway, I'd still be an immigrant boy."  
"You wanted to travel, Pavel. Okay it's not exactly Brazil, but at least it's the Southern Hemisphere."  
Pavel just shook his head.  
"Okay, I'll be honest. I've been thinking about this for a while. This just sealed the deal. And yeah, it'll be hard to give up Raw. Very. But much as it hurts me to say this, Pavel, they'll be fine without me. Fiona's more than capable. So is Jojo."  
Pavel was silent.  
"Look, I know it's a long way from home, your family."  
"It's not that."  
"Well, what is it then?"  
"What about your family? What will they think of me, Geoff? Of us?"  
Geoff couldn't quite believe they were getting into all this now. "Well, I won't lie to you, Pavel. They'd much rather you were a chick."  
Pavel laughed out loud. "I bet they would."  
"Yeah. But apart from that - okay, they'll be a bit bewildered to start with, but once they get to know you they'll be fine. They'll love you."  
"You think so?"  
"How could they not? Think about it. We could work for a few years, save some money, then open our own place. We could even specialise in Czech food."  
"You're kidding."  
"No I'm not. Really. We could design the menu together. It hasn't been done much or at all that I know of. It'd be different, it'd be authentic; it'd be great – so long as you didn't do any of the actual cooking. Good idea or what?"  
"It does sound good." But Pavel's voice was flat.  
Geoff sat up on his elbow and looked down at the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.  
"Don't you want to?" If Pavel wouldn't go, neither would he. That went without saying.  
"You know I want to. But it's not possible. Why get our hopes up about something that can't happen?"  
"Was that all you were worried about?" Geoff smoothed the hair away from Pavel's forehead, and leaned forward to lightly kiss his pale skin.  
"There is a way. I looked into it again."  
"I can't fit into your hand luggage, Geoff. We tried that before."  
"Don't worry. Now, can you get the weekend off? As soon as that cast's gone?"  
"You tell me. You're the boss."  
"Oh yeah. Right. Leave granted then." Geoff rolled Pavel over on top of him, gently as he could, ran his hands up and down the smooth and arching back. Pavel sighed and made a small sound of pleasure. Geoff narrowed his eyes appreciatively.  
"Mr _Polack_."  
"You still haven't told me what's going on. Also, I'm Czech."  
"Whatever. My bouncing Czech. Mmm." The way Pavel was moving, Geoff couldn't think clearly any more.  
"Tell me!"  
"Okay, okay. Just don't stop..."

Pavel stood at the pass, fingers drumming, waiting on the last of the desserts.  
"Two mint julep sorbets, _please. _The customers are getting testy."  
"I see." Geoff strode back into the kitchen. "Richard! Mate! Remind me why I re-hired you again, will you? What the hell are you doing? How long can it take to make a coupla sorbets? It's not like you have to travel to Antarctica to get it! It's right here in the freezer, pre-made by young Jojo's own fair hand. All you have to do is scoop it, put it on the plates, decorate it. Chocolate leaves. Mint toffee sprinkles, capiche? Jesus."

"Thank God service is over! I need a drink." Jojo breezed by Pavel, fresh out of the storeroom with a huge jar of olives under one arm.  
"You got that right."  
A second later, she'd done a double take, turned white, skidded to a halt and just about dropped the jar.  
"Here, let me take that from you." He placed it carefully on the counter. "Are you all right, Jojo?"  
"Yeah I'm fine but what the hell is that?"  
"What is what?"  
Jojo pointed at his ring finger.  
"Huh? Oh _that._ It's my wedding ring."  
"Your what?  
"My wedding ring." He was enjoying himself now.  
She grabbed his arm and pulled him aside so forcefully that he was just about jerked off his feet.  
"You have a lot of strength in you for such a small person, you know."  
Jojo didn't take the bait. Which was a first.  
"Jesus Christ, Pavel, I don't know what's going on but please, _please_ don't let Geoff see that. He'll go off his head. Really. I'm not kidding, Pavel. He. Will. Go. Mental."  
"No, he'll be fine. Honestly."  
"I don't think so. I do not think so, Pavel."

"Fear not, Jolene. I am, as the man said, fine with it."  
Jojo jumped. Geoff had appeared behind her, having personally delivered the late desserts himself. No doubt with the kind of Geoff-style apology that invariably left his charmed but somewhat overwhelmed guests feeling obscurely like they should be saying sorry themselves.  
"I don't get it."  
"I told you she'd notice the ring, Pavel. I'm just amazed it took this long."  
Geoff reached down his tunic neck and pulled out a chain. Dangling from its end, revolving slowly and gleaming in the light from the heat lamps, was another golden wedding band. Jojo stared at it as if hypnotised. The exact mate of Pavel's.  
"Couldn't wear it during work," he explained with a shrug.  
"No, of course you couldn't." A smile was starting to tug at the corners of her mouth now. _Sometimes two plus two really does make four._ "You've gone and got hitched, haven't you?"  
"A civil partnership actually, but yes. We did."  
"This from the man who told me, and I quote, that getting married was just like going to the electric chair?"  
"You said what?"  
"Pavel, I was kidding. Pretty much."  
"So it's true then."  
"Yep."  
"Oh my God!" Jojo launched herself at Pavel, grabbed him in a bear hug, kissed both his cheeks.  
"Pavel, you wild and crazy kid! You really just went out and did it?"  
"We really did." His smile was as wide as Geoff's.  
"So that's what you two were up to in London. Here I was thinking it was just a dirty weekend."  
"Well, it was quite dirty."  
"Hah."  
_I was the one who was supposed to get married_. Jojo couldn't help but think it, just for a moment. Then she pushed the thought away, pinched Pavel's cheek, released him and turned to her next victim.  
"Uh-uh." Geoff shook his head.  
"C'mon Geoff, for once in your life! Let yourself go!"  
"You hugged him, that's enough."  
Jojo ignored him. She threw her arms around him and held on.  
"I'm so happy for you, Chef."  
All the fight went out of Geoff. He lifted her slight form right off her feet, as if she weighed no more than one of those delicate chocolate leaves. When her face drew even with his, the kiss he placed on her lips was light but heartfelt.  
"Thankyou, Jojo." He set her back down, then leaned over and whispered softly in her ear. "You better brace yourself, Ms Harte. You've still got a hell of a lot to learn in a very short time if you're going to be head chef when I'm gone."  
"You _what_?"  
He just winked and patted her back. "We're leaving soon, me and Pavel. Keep it zipped, eh, Jojo. I'll explain later."  
The others crowded round then, eager to offer their congratulations. Bottles of bubbly cracked open, the toasts began, and it wasn't until a long time later that Jojo had the leisure to recall Geoff's words to her, and reflect on what they really meant.


End file.
